I was born in the Rotunda Hospital on June 5th. My birth was very difficult for myself, my mother, & my family.
Am I doing something wrong?
My mom exclaimed how I was 4 months old and couldn't lift up my head. She began to worry, if only she could understand...
She then tried reading me a book and asking if I liked it. After noticing that I was unable to do so, she left the room with a pure lack of hope. My other relatives thought I was an idiot and beyond help.
It was like a glass wall stood between them and myself. I was now 5 years old and imprisoned in a world of my own.
Everyone that night was in the room, having fun by the candle glow and enjoying the storm. A piece of chalk (something I had never seen before) caught my eye and I desperately wanted it. I took the chalk out of my sister's hand- with my left foot.
I held it tightly between my toes as everyone watched me. I was sweating as my mother came from the pantry. She saw me in the corner and explained to me what to do with the chalk. "Copy that," she said, and after many rounds of crooked tries... I did.